


Not Invincible

by AParticularlyLargeBear



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 06:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16634381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParticularlyLargeBear/pseuds/AParticularlyLargeBear
Summary: After the bank, Carlos tries to reassure Chris. It doesn't quite go as planned.





	Not Invincible

**Author's Note:**

> Although not depicted in the piece, there are some mentions of severe physical harm within.

Today had been a day, all right.

The Wards had lost, and lost hard against a team that they outnumbered and _should_ have outgunned. Even with their new cape, the Undersiders didn't have anything close to the firepower of Vista, Clockblocker and Glory Girl. Seven vs. five and the good guys were completely punked out.

Carlos paced back and forth in his room like a caged animal. He’d failed as a leader and a combatant both. Despite what he’d thought was a neat little trick in switching clothes with Clockblocker, Hellhound’s—though given his mood, he was definitely feeling Bitch more—dogs had made a beeline straight for him. Hell, if Dennis had been in his ordinary costume then Skitter wouldn’t have been able to shove a swarm of bugs down his throat. Carlos had contributed nothing besides a few bucketloads of blood.

On the other hand, the idea of those mutant dogs mauling Missy, Chris or any of the others made Carlos’s stomach turn. He was a big guy and they’d still all but torn him to pieces; in the flurry of claws and crushing jaws, he’d thought he might lose a limb or two. For all that Carlos didn’t conventionally feel pain, being treated as a man-sized chew toy sucked exactly as much as he may have imagined, especially when it meant he couldn’t do shit to prevent his team getting their asses handed to them. He was supposed to be better than a meat wall; any idiot with a brute rating could soak up a few hits. Cape battles weren’t like the MMOs Chris coaxed him into playing, where the tank ate damage and nothing else. Tactics ran deeper than that.

Carlos sighed, stopped, rested his head against his bedroom wall. This wasn’t getting him anywhere. Maybe he should speak to Armsmaster, get some advice about how not to suck as a field commander. After the heat had died down a little, maybe; Armsmaster was probably going to eat some of the flak for the Wards getting dumpstered, would be fielding questions about it in the media, Not the best time to be asking for training.

He turned on the spot and went for the door. He needed to get out of his room, speak to the guys, see how they were doing. Browbeat was going to be demoralised as hell with that kind of outcome for his first outing with the Wards, Dean had been acting weird all afternoon and Dennis had nearly choked on bugs.

Carlos found himself walking towards none of those places. Instead, barely thinking about it, he was making right for the Wards’ workshop. There was one person he wanted to check on most of all. The sound of grinding metal and crackling electricity came from inside as Carlos opened up the door, and there he was. Chris was sitting at a workbench, hunched over something, sparks flying off around him. Carlos leaned against the door frame and watched for a moment before approaching.

A loud _crack_ came from the bench and Chris jerked back, cursing loudly. He ripped a pair of protective goggles off of his head and made to fling them to one side. Carlos gently caught his wrist and Chris snapped around with a yelp of surprise, tearing his hand loose. Stepping back hurriedly, Carlos held up both his own hands.

“Easy, easy, it’s just me.”

Chris sagged. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“Sorry. You’re already working on something new?”

“Have to make up for the Alternator Cannon somehow,” Chris sat back from the desk. “They’re reviewing the evidence. Might wind up on probation.”

“Shit, Chris, I’m sorry,” Carlos spread his arms for a hug, but Chris didn’t move. After a couple of seconds, Carlos awkwardly lowered his arms.

Chris squeezed his eyes shut. “I screwed up so bad back there. Bringing the cannon to a bank robbery was stupid.”

“If I’d come up with a halfway decent plan nobody would be looking twice at your tech,” said Carlos. “This one’s on me.”

“If you say so.”

There was a pause, stretching for an uncomfortably long span. Carlos wanted to sweep Chris up in his arms, hold him tight, tell him that it was just a bad day, that things would look better tomorrow, that he’d back him to the hilt against any PRT tribunal any day of the week. He hesitated.

Chris opened his eyes again and stared into space. He spoke at the wall. “I freaked out seeing those dogs on you. Couldn’t even aim straight.”

“Well, can’t say it was fun.” Carlos tried a chuckle. It rang false to even his own ears.

Chris whirled back around in his chair. “Fun—no kidding it wasn’t fun! They tore a hole in your chest, Carlos!”

Carlos smiled reassuringly. “I can take it.”

Chris slammed both fists onto his workbench. “What about when you can’t!?”

Carlos’s mouth quirked slightly. “Uh, you didn’t forget my power, right?” Chris’s face darkened, and Carlos instantly regretted the teasing tone.

Chris laughed, hard and flat. “How could I? I see your intestines on a regular basis.”

“That was like, twice.”

“Four times.”

Carlos blinked. “Seriously?”

“The sight of your boyfriend’s guts tends to stick, Carlos.”

Carlos winced. Hearing Chris sounding so blank and dull sent an aching feeling right through his chest, more painful than any dog bite. “I was fine, though,” he tried a grin on for size. “Come on, you remember how goofy I looked wearing two hoodies to hide all the bandages? Dennis called me—”

“Stop trying to make it into a joke, Carlos! You getting hurt isn’t funny!” Carlos opened his mouth, then saw Chris rubbing his eyes with the back of his arm. When Chris spoke again, his voice was thick and choked. “Those dogs could have torn your head off. Can you survive that?”

“The power testers—”

“What about being ripped in half? Squashed flat?”

“I…” Carlos faltered. He couldn’t actually downplay that. He’d shrugged off everything that he’d ever been hit with, but that was the kicker when you were a brute, wasn’t it? As soon as you found something you _couldn’t_ handle, you were dead. He’d gone without eyes, broken his own arm punching through walls, torn every muscle in his lower body lifting cars, but somewhere there was a limit. He swallowed and then nodded. “You’re right, Chris.”

Chris managed to smile, then sniffled. “I just worry. The bad guys don’t hold back against you because you’re so hard to put down, but you’re not invincible.”

Carlos put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll be more careful. Promise.”

Chris leaned into him, taking quick breaths. Carlos shifted in closer and then put one broad arm around his shoulders. Bit by bit, Chris began to calm, breathing slowing down.

“Feeling any better?” Carlos murmured.

Chris glanced up, holding Carlos’s eyes with his own soft brown, then tucked his head neatly against Carlos’s abdomen. “Hug me some more and we’ll see.”

Carlos gladly obliged.


End file.
